


Hello There! I Haven't Seen You for Awhile

by DeltaS



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaS/pseuds/DeltaS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to "At Least I Get to Say Goodbye", ala "The Search for Spock".  (This story will make a lot more sense if you read "At Least..." first)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello There! I Haven't Seen You for Awhile

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted in April 1999

It had been a year since Voyager had made it back to Earth. Their arrival had been almost without announcement, as they had managed finally to modify the slipstream technology so efficiently that the method got them back to the Alpha Quadrant almost before they had communicated their existence. Their welcome was with restrained exuberance, for the return coincided with the final horrendous assaults with the Dominion. "Not with a bang, but with a whimper," Kathryn Janeway recalled from the old Terran poet.

After a brief readjustment period for Voyager’s stalwart crew, Starfleet was quick to assimilate their skills and talents into the escalating hostilities. The higher echelons had winked at the past transgressions of Voyager’s incorporated Maquis, for their formerly subversive insights were now welcomed as brilliant tactical designs. Many of the younger crew, Starfleet and Maquis alike, by their own requests, were assigned to ships going to the heart of the battle zones. Included with this latter group was Tom Paris, whose flying skills were in much demand. However, the rest of the senior ranked core from Voyager’s staff was kept close to Starfleet headquarters. Though their expertise, like Tom’s, would greatly aid the war efforts, they were on constant call for daily debriefings. Even the ship’s adopted hybrid, the statuesque Seven of Nine, was convinced of the necessity to share her information with the Federation’s dictums.

Six months after Voyager’s return, the years of agonizing conflict with the Dominion --- and the Cardassians --- had finally ceased. A precarious peace was in place throughout the alpha and gamma quadrants, and all of their children sought safe havens to recover from their grievous wounds.

When Tom returned from the wars, his rank of full lieutenant was officially restored. Also restored was his renewed appreciation for the woman who had grown to love him. The raw emotion of the war had stripped away all the selfishness that he had held defensively between them, and he knew now that his love for her was his sole reason for survival. Two weeks after his return, they were married. The wedding provided a brief reunion of many of the Voyager crew. The event seemed to once more solidify the deep bonding that the members of the group had for one another.

Of the rest of the senior crew, Harry had now resigned his commission, and was seriously exploring his music. Tuvok had announced his imminent retirement, anxious to resume his philosophical studies back on Vulcan; he was remaining on Earth only until final negotiations from the war had been completed and when he was satisfied with his Delta Quadrant report to Starfleet. The doctor was in his glory, expounding all the new information he had gleaned from the various races he had studied on their long journey. His information, along with the gigatrillions of data bits that had been provided personally by Seven and Neelix, in addition to the ship’s logs, were filling a myriad of Starfleet databases. Captain Janeway, now considered a political icon, was elevated to diplomatic status, a role that she had yet to decide whether she liked or disliked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kathryn Janeway was preparing for yet another treaty conference, this one on Bajor. She had been there twice before -- a lovely planet, rich and lush, recovering from its defilement of Cardassian desecration. Morning messages awaited her response about the agenda, and her goal today was to ascertain who was attending and brief them of the issues to be resolved. She logged on her computer, its voice calling out its chronological documentation: "Stardate 55438.31"

The date burned itself into her memories... five years ago... stardate 50438.56... it had been five years... since they had said good-bye. Five years without awakening to his voice... warming with his smile... melting at his touch. Five years of living a deception, a vacuous nonexistence. Five years of trying to replace the void with Starfleet rules and regulations. As payment for her sacrifice, she was now one of the most admired senior officers in the galaxy, with reverent respect from former crewmates to anonymous devotees on the street. But life was empty and pointless, her body and spirit exhausted from the constant facade she presented to all around her.

She had wanted to speak to Starfleet about going back for him shortly after Voyager’s return; but the war efforts were all-consuming, and she knew that he would never have allowed his needs to supersede the urgent concentration on the conflict with the Dominion. No, he would not have approved of that decision. Then, five months ago, she had contacted Admiral Ross, who was overseeing the quadrant border treaties, about attempting to contact that lost distant planet via their new transquantum subspace communications array.

She and Ross had never been admirers of each other. When she was in her third year at the Academy, he had been the young lieutenant instructor of her class in theoretical tactical methods. She had proven a theorem of his incorrect in front of the entire class one day, humiliating the fledgling command officer. He still smarted from her one-upmanship, and her new-found status rested uneasily with him. So, when she approached him, his rebuttal had been swift and sure: there was to be absolutely no contact with the Delta Quadrant until all the war negotiations had been completed and all of Voyager had been debriefed to Starfleet’s satisfaction.

Kathryn had thought about going to Admiral Paris, playing upon his known affection for her, as his former prodigy. But that would have merely incited Ross all the more, and she knew that if she was ever going to be allowed to find Chakotay, she had to bide her time. Lately however, her days and nights were haunted constantly by ghostly semblances of his image and voice and touch. She desperately wanted just to know if he were alive... if there was any reason for her to continue to hope. The venom of her visions had poisoned her body and mind, and the only antidote was to seek soporific solace.

The reflection that rebounded from her window showed a woman who was neglecting herself. A increasingly tremulous hand raised itself to push back her hair, hair that was frequently falling loose from the tight twist across the back of her head. Her uniform, while always neat and precise, was starting to hang limply on a frame that was dwindling in size. Skin that once had been like porcelain was now mottled and discolored. Lines that had barely been noticeable around her eyes were deep frames for the darkened ocular orbs. The same eyes were frequently red and swollen from lack of sleep... and something else. In recent weeks, she had fallen victim to the consolation of cowards; her only comfort now was to seek nightly oblivion in an ancient liquid form. Kathryn Janeway was slowly welcoming her own doom by consuming numbing amounts of alcohol.

As she was rapidly succumbing to the despair that had wrapped itself around her with the memories, a buzz at her door announced a visitor.

"Come," she said without enthusiasm, anchoring her unsteady body by holding onto the edge of her desk.

The doors opened to her old friend, Tuvok. He, too, was showing the very un-Vulcanlike physical symptoms of emotional distress. His long dark face had a gray pallor to it; his lips thinner and more drawn since she had seen him last. He was in his dark Vulcan robes rather than a Starfleet uniform, signaling that this was far from an official visit.

He stepped over the threshold, awaiting her permission to enter. Only his Vulcan reserve prevented him from recoiling at the sight of the person in front of him. His voice seemed as sure and confident as ever.

"I apologize, Captain, for coming before contacting you."

"That’s... that’s all right, Tuvok. You know that you are always welcome."

"Captain... are you well? You do not appear to be yourself."

She laughed nervously. "Just the usual... not enough sleep."

"Yes; of course," he acknowledged, averting his eyes from the disintegrating woman in front of him.

"Please... come in," she continued. "What brings you all the way to Starfleet headquarters so early in the day?" She weaved her way over to her sofa, and motioned for him to join her. She noticed that there was some irregularity in his gait.

"Captain, I have come here with a special request. You know that I am quite reticent to speak of subjects that tend to be of... a highly personal nature. But what I would like to discuss would appear to be of importance to both of us."

He stiffened his body as he continued.

"Because of my personal discipline, it is highly irregular that incidents would... disturb me. However, for the past few weeks, my usual concentrated sleeping periods have been overshadowed by distorted shadowy images. Last night, I attempted a new contemplative technique, to recall some logic to the fleeting forms. My attempt succeeded, and I came to confront what had been haunting me.

"It was your face... your face the moment you materialized out of transport from New Earth back onto Voyager. The expression existed for only a transient moment; but in that brief time, I experienced an unbearable sense of grieving loss. As suddenly as I sensed it, it was gone, and a new, toughened expression appeared on your face... one that has been there ever since: a false face, a masked face. One that hid well your inner pain. Several times, I sensed you wanted to speak of it, but knew that when the time came, you would seek advice. Yet you have chosen to remain silent.

"Ever since we brought you back from New Earth, leaving Commander Chakotay, I thought that perhaps we had done the wrong thing."

Her faithful friend stopped, waiting for her response.

"You alone have known why he really stayed behind, Tuvok."

"I have kept your secret within me," he said softly.

"And it disturbs you as much as it has me," she responded.

"Yes. No amount of meditation or mind control has erased that memory."

"Nor can I find forgetfulness.," Janeway confessed. She turned to her longtime friend, her voice filling with anguish.

"Oh, Tuvok, I should never have allowed him to talk me into leaving him. I now know that I would have bent any rule in the universe, much less Starfleet... relationships be damned! After all, we survived with all of the ones that were formed by the time we got back here."

Tuvok listened intently, but even after her confession he was obviously still uncomfortable about something.

"Captain, there is more to my distress in addition to the image of your face. My thoughts have been greatly disturbed lately, as I know yours have been."

She looked at him quizzically. "You, too?"

"Indeed. It is almost as if... as if Commander Chakotay’s spirit is reaching out and calling to me."

Her eyes became more focused, as some deep spark had been rekindled. "Perhaps that’s what is happening to me also, but I don’t want to admit it."

She became silent, her mind trying to seek an equilibrium from its anesthetized state.

"Tuvok... do you think he’s still alive? Or... has he gone over to his... spirit world...and... and..."

Dry tears burned her eyes, as five years of grief began to surface once more. Tuvok looked at his friend, trying to decide how to help her, but obviously uncomfortable with her rare display of emotion.

"Oh, Tuvok... I loved him so much!" she said, her eyes pleading with him for some comfort.

"I know," he answered quietly. He moved over to her, and stiffly placed his arm around her. "And I think that’s why I’m here," he continued.

Sublimated emotion wracked her small frame, as she leaned against his thick robe. She wanted to disappear among its folds, comforted by his stoic resolve. As his last words finally registered with her tormented soul, she quelled her broken spirit, and pulled back, looking into his embered eyes.

"Why...you’re...here...???" she asked, each word forming its own question.

"Yes. I feel that his spirit has indeed reached out to me... and brought me here to you. He knows that my nature would be more receptive to such an outreach than yours would be."

"And... and... you think that he’s alive? Has he managed to get a communication across to us?"

"He is alive, Captain; of that I am certain. But his means of communicating cannot be documented... logically."

The glaze of depression fell from her eyes as she began to comprehend the meaning of Tuvok’s words.

The words formed slowly and came from her as wisps of breath, as she seemed unable to breath. "He’s... alive... and...and...."

"And he would like to speak to you..."

"But how...??" she questioned, her body now able to stay still, as she twisted and turned in nervous little steps. "Starfleet has already said no to an official request. And I *am* still part of Starfleet..."

"You most certainly are not in acceptable Starfleet condition at this point in time. Perhaps you could approach them again..."

"But.. we’ve been forbidden to go back into the Delta Quadrant until the Federation has had an opportunity to present treaties to all the different races with whom we came into contact. And as long as there are Borg that won’t happen! No.. we can’t go back..."

"Captain, it seems that you have forgotten all of your um... innovative skills... the very ones that you so often employed that served us so many times on our ‘journey’."

She laughed for the first time since he had arrived. "Only because some of the more... esoteric ones were tempered by your good logic."

He cleared his throat. "Yes... that was necessary upon occasion. None the less, I do believe that at this point in time, you and a small crew just might be able to ... shall we say... provide for an exploratory mission back into the Delta Quadrant... to try out a small Starfleet vessel, overhauled with slipsteam technology... just to ‘test the waters’ so to speak...

She eyes were now burning with his plan. "You mean... to just see if we could get into the Delta Quadrant and come back... and then... then... just happen to overshoot a bit..."

"Nothing illegal, Captain; just an honest engineering mistake. We all know that they occur when testing new technologies..."

"Indeed they do, my friend; indeed they do."

She pulled back from him, shaking her head in disbelief. "I cannot believe that you... of all people... you... would come up with such a devious plan."

"You both are my friends. Kathryn Janeway, over the past five years, I have watched you become as much a lost soul as he had become to us. Both of your spirits are in deep pain; now, his katra has called out to me. He says that the wounds have been honored long enough; you made a promise to him, and now it is time to keep that promise... it is a time for renewal."

Her interest was piqued; a project, a plan... a rescue of Chakotay!

"So, my fallen Vulcan friend, do you have any ideas as to how we could carry off such a little deception?"

"Indeed I do, Captain. With your permission, I would like to make a few covert inquiries. I will contact you with my results."

"Tuvok, you are a sly old fox!" she laughed.

She could have sworn she saw a quiver of a smile come to his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janeway’s conversation with Tuvok took years off her countenance and spirit. The earlier burdens of her daily agenda took on a new meaning, as she made arrangements for the treaty conference.

The following day, she appeared in her office early, looking vigorous and refreshed. Her face had a more natural color to it, and her cheeks appeared fuller and less drawn. A vivacious energy beamed from her eyes and brought light and life to her step. She greeted everyone by name and a bright "hello" or "good morning". Her long-dormant replicator sang out, and the rich aroma of her favorite coffee brew permeated the air. Looks were exchanged by all around her; they couldn’t remember the last time she had been so content. Restless in her impatience of allowing Tuvok do all the groundwork on their plan, Janeway decided to call in a few favors of her own.

A mischievous smile punctuated her face as she activated her comm module. A familiar face appeared.

"Riker here."

"Will... how are you?" she smiled her seductive best.

"Why, Kathryn Janeway! Haven’t seen you since... that briefing on the badlands treaty four months ago. How are you? I heard that you had been ill..."

"Hmmm. Bad news travels fast," she mumbled. "Just a temporary setback. I’m very much alive and kicking."

"Well, good," he grinned, his own greeting seemingly a little bit too friendly.

"Will," she continued, "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure. What’s up?"

She paused momentarily. "As you know, the theory that we used to return from the Delta Quadrant was a modification of several alien technologies. We have shared with Starfleet our expertise on this, but as of yet there hasn’t been time to try to adapt the slipsteam methods into the warp cores of any other vessels. I would like to demonstrate how this can be done, and I was wondering if you knew of any older vessels that are still functional but in need of overhaul? I would like to design a make-over for the ship and present my ideas to Admiral Kostman, with the possibility of developing a prototype for other modifications."

Riker listened attentively to her request, his answer coming to him before she had even finished.

"I know that the USS Albany, a Miranda-class ship, is in dry dock for some minor repairs. As you know, it’s an older class vessel, but still quite serviceable and able to reach warp 8.8. Why don’t you present your case to Kostman and tell him that I recommended the Albany?"

Kathryn could barely contain her elation. The Albany! Of course! That would fit right in with their plans. "Will, you’re wonderful. Thanks as always for your help."

"Anytime," he grinned back. He leaned back into his chair, an expression of sanguine confidence spreading across his face. "Say, Kath --- don’t you still owe me a date from about 25 years ago?"

"Mmm... and the answer is the same. By the way, I thought that you and Deanna were an ‘item’ again..."

There was a blush behind his full beard. "Don’t miss a thing, do you, Kath?"

"Never," she retorted. "I’ll get back to you."

The comm link broke, and Janeway now sat back in her chair. Next on her list --- Admiral Kostman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kathryn Janeway’s negotiating skills were in peak form. Admiral Kostman completely agreed that it was time for her to hone her technical skills as well as her diplomatic ones. The treaty conference on Bajor was still several weeks away, and if her plans for the Albany worked out, he told her, they might shift her duty responsibilities from the conference to the refitting of the ship. At the conclusion of the conversation, she felt just like the rabbit who had begged and pleaded to be thrown into the briar patch.

A couple of hours later, Tuvok called and advised her of his efforts. He was "satisfied" with her initiatives, and thanked her for making the arrangements.

"I have located and spoken with the personnel that we might need for our endeavors. With Admiral Kostman’s approval of your proposal, there should be no difficulty in getting them assigned to the project."

"How soon can we meet?" she inquired.

"I have taken the liberty of inviting them to my quarters for a briefing," he confirmed. "Tonight."

Janeway shook her head. "Tuvok, I do believe that you are as determined about this mission as I am."

"Perhaps," he responded equivocally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, a motley group of the former Voyager crew met in Tuvok’s darkened living area: Tom and B’Elanna; Harry Kim, Seven of Nine and, of course, Tuvok and their former captain. After the initial greetings and small talk, Tuvok invited them all to be seated in the circle of pillows he had prepared on the floor, and Janeway proceeded to fill them in on a very interesting project that she had been assigned.

"All of you played prominent roles in the development of the slipstream technology modification to Voyager. I have talked with Admiral Kostman about the possibility of applying the techniques to a couple of other ships, and I’d like to have your help with this. Tuvok has been making the necessary arrangement for your transfers to the project if you are in agreement."

Tom looked at her, a befuddled expression on his face. "Uh... Captain... if this is a Starfleet program, why are we meeting as civilians?"

Janeway was caught off-guard. A logical concern for Tom, who was once more in Starfleet’s good graces.

"And I’m not even in Starfleet... why me?" asked Harry.

"I realize that we are asking you to postpone your studies; but, Harry, you and Tom know more about flying these converted vessels than anyone else."

Harry’s eyes became as wide as the window overlooking the skyline. "Fly? You want me to fly?"

Janeway calmed him. "No, no; I didn’t mean that. Just help us get the system going. A month at most, Harry..."

Seven spoke for the first time. "Indeed, Mr. Kim, it has been a while since we have been able to work together. I should look forward to your company as a colleague."

The rest of the group stifled quiet laughs, watching the blush rise in Harry’s face.

"Well, all right. But just because it’s you, Captain. One month, no more," he managed to stutter.

"Why us?" B’Elanna asked pointedly.

A cryptic exchange of looks passed between Janeway and Tuvok. "Because this project deserves only the best," she concluded. "And I know that I can count on you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The refitting of the USS Albany began in earnest a week later. Janeway had been assigned two dozen engineers and technicians, in addition to her elite picks from Voyager, to implement the rigorous overhaul. Janeway was a constant presence in the work; she was seen dashing among the different task groups, and was back to her old habits of working as many as twenty hours straight. But the hard efforts seemed to rejuvenate her; she was a tireless dynamo.

Towards the middle of the third week, when it was apparent that the refit was going to succeed, she and Tuvok could be seen huddling in secretive conversations. The newer workers of the project thought nothing of these conferences between their two leaders, but the ever-inquisitive Tom Paris felt his trigger hairs going to red alert. During their midshift down period, he convened his wife and Harry and Seven, sharing with them his intuitive feelings.

"There’s something a little off here," he told them. "I talked with my dad about this project the other night, and he said that it was proposed by both Janeway and Tuvok. Although it’s supposed to be a routine re-building post-war project, Janeway seems awfully anxious to get it completed and take the Albany out for a test spin. I think she’s got something up her sleeve."

B’Elanna looked at him, shaking her head. "Tom --- there you go again with that overactive imagination of yours... seeing things that don’t exist! This is just Captain Janeway; when she gets an idea, it’s full speed ahead. She can be a little impulsive, you know."

Tom laughed. "Why, whatever do you mean! There aren’t any *other* women around here like that, are there?"

B’Elanna hit him.

"I agree with Lt. Torres," Seven chimed in. "The Captain... can be rather irrational when she becomes obsessed with an idea."

"I think that’s what Tom means," Harry stated. "That’s just it --- she is obsessed with something. And Tuvok appears to be as driven by its completion as she is."

Tom appeared deep in thought. "What if... the Albany’s completion was just a beginning?"

"What do you mean?" the tall Borg/human asked of him.

"I mean... what if she has a mission for this ship?" he continued.

"Like... what?" Harry asked.

B’Elanna’s thoughts suddenly merged with her husband’s. "Like... going back into the Delta Quadrant... to finish up some business!"

Seven blanched. "The Borg? Oh. no!"

Obviously still deep in thought, Tom shook his head. "No... not the Borg. But there *is* something, and I’m going to ask her."

"I’m going with you," said B’Elanna as she jumped up to join him.

"Well, you’re not leaving me out of this!" said Harry, following them.

"I don’t want it to be the Borg," repeated Seven, closing in on her friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quartet found Janeway and Tuvok conferring in a small walled cubicle to the side of the reconstruction area. Tuvok’s enhanced aural sense alerted then to the arrival of the younger people, but Janeway still had an expression on her face of having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Tom took the lead.

"Captain, I think we have to talk."

"Talk?" she inquired innocently.

"Yes, talk," he repeated. "This isn’t just about Starfleet, is it?"

Janeway and Tuvok stole glances at each other. She had been backed into a corner.

Tuvok looked at her, and received her silent nod of approval to divulge their plan.

"Please, be seated. This might take awhile," he said. When the foursome was settled, he began his story.

"Five years ago, we were compelled to leave Commander Chakotay on the planet that he and the captain had named ‘New Earth’. Seven, while I know you were not with us at the time, and you have not had the privilege of knowing Commander Chakotay, you have heard many positive things about him. He indeed was a good person and an excellent Starfleet officer..."

"But damn... was he hard on shuttlecraft!" interjected Tom.

"Mr. Paris... please," reprimanded the Vulcan.

"Sorry," apologized Tom.

Tuvok continued. "In recent months, the captain and I have both been subject to some unorthodox subliminal messages, which we believe have originated from the commander. We have approached Starfleet about attempting to contact Mr. Chakotay, but there have been other priorities.

"I do not believe that I’m breaking the confidence of the captain when I tell you that her mental health was traumatically affected by these thoughts. As illogical as it seems, I believe that I, too, was the recipient of these... messages." He stopped and cleared his throat.

"While our future actions may destroy our Starfleet careers, she and I are planning to take the refitted Albany, using the slipstream modifications, back into the Delta Quadrant in an attempt to find the source of these communications, and, indeed, possibly find Commander Chakotay."

The young people were dumbfounded. The two most straight-arrow Starfleet officers they had ever known... proposing their own mutiny!

B’Elanna finally broke the shocked silence. "Well, I’ve been a maverick before; why not a second round of it? I would like to go with you, Captain."

Tom grabbed his feisty wife. "If you’re in, I’m in too. Hell... my dad will probably blame me for it anyway!"

Harry smiled broadly. "I’m not even Starfleet anymore. What’s the most I could be charged with --- stealing a starship? Count me in."

Seven’s eyebrow rose as she looked at her companions. "And I have never been commissioned into Starfleet. Besides, you will need my expertise in operating the slipstream requirements. It is only logical that I accompany you."

Janeway stared in disbelief at her former crew. Years ago, she had expected... no, demanded their unswerving obedience. But now... they could change their lives forever by joining her in her act of anarchy.

"No, no; I can’t allow you to do this to yourselves... to your lives..." she entreated them.

B’Elanna firmly stood her ground. "Captain, I’ve known him longer than you have. He was my friend, too. I’m doing it for him as well as you."

The others quickly reaffirmed their allegiance. The die had been cast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight days later, the Albany was set for her maiden slipstream journey. Seven had plotted three slipstream accesses between Earth and the edge of the quadrant. Her calculations showed that they could complete the round trip in a little over a day. Starfleet command approved the test flight, with the now reinstated Lt. Paris at the helm, with Lt. B’Elanna Torres, Commander Tuvok and Seven accompanying him. A small crowd gathered to watch the medium-sized older Starship begin its voyage of rebirth.

It wasn’t until the following morning, when Kathryn Janeway was late in coming to her office, that Starfleet headquarters received a subspace message from the USS Albany... from Kathryn Janeway. She appeared rather confused and apologetic in her appearance.

"I regret to inform you that somehow or another, Harry Kim and I were doing some last minute inspections aboard the ship when we were overcome by some fumes from a spilled container of polyethylene dichromate. Since we were in a remote part of the ship, and we were unconscious for many hours, and we’ve just now found our way to the bridge. I guess we’re along for the ride, too. Please accept this belated request to accompany the test crew."

Admiral Kostman laughingly granted her permission. But Ross was right next to him, and as the communication was cut off, he said to his fellow ranking officer, "I don’t trust her; she’s up to something..."

Kostman slapped him on the back. "Michael, you’re still smarting after twenty-five years; let it go! Janeway is one of our best; what is there to worry about?"

"That!" Ross said, as he exploded and emphatically pointed to the digital trajectory path of the Albany, which showed it disappearing into a fourth slipstream segment... and into the Delta Quadrant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seven downloaded her extended flight plan into the ship’s computer. Massive calculations had determined that the slipstream patterns would have them arriving at the planet only known as New Earth in about five days after they left Earth --- a far cry from the over five years it had taken them to get back to the Alpha Quadrant.

Spirits aboard the Albany vacillated between euphoria and a knowledge that here would be hell to pay upon their return... if they were able to return! A gentle routine settled in. With the new programming, there was little to do but keep the ship on course, making adjustments as necessary.

Star and planet formations that they had seen years earlier flashed by them, only to be obliterated by entry into the space continuum passages. Initially chatty and lively, Janeway had become restive and anxious; B’Elanna mumbled something to Tom that it was like she was getting ready for a very personal meeting with someone.

"Maybe she is," was his response.

By the third day, Tuvok mentioned that he felt more and more that Chakotay was trying to contact him mentally. He calmly assured the his fellow travelers that indeed they will find the commander.

Early in the fifth day, Harry was monitoring the comm. Signals alerted him that there was an incoming message. He opened the designated channel, and heard a familiar voice.

"Approaching vessel... I have detected Starfleet signatures. Identify yourself."

Harry gulped. "Commander, uh... it’s good to hear you. This is Harry Kim."

Chakotay’s voice choked with the sudden emotion. "Harry Kim! Is that you? Where are you? How are you?"

"We are only three light years away, Commander. We’ve... we’ve come back..."

"Back? Then you made it... Kathryn? Where’s Kathryn?" he called out.

"She’s in her ready room. I’ll call her..." He signaled the captain. "Oh.. and I’ve discovered that you’ve modified a comm relay; I think I can get you on visual. On screen," Harry said jubilantly.

The image of Chakotay came onto the bridge viewscreen just as Janeway came out from her retreat. They were still out of range for anything more than a blurred image of their former first officer; but there was enough of that angular face for them to know who it was.

Kathryn walked over to the screen, and his focus became centered on her. His voice trembled with emotion as he managed to speak.

"Kathryn... my wonderful Kathryn!"

She stood before the screen, mesmerized by his countenance. She reached out towards the image, trying to touch him.

"Oh, my," she said, her hands pulling back and instinctively crossing her heart, struggling to get ahold of herself.

"Chakotay... my husband."

There was a collective gasp from the other people witnessing this scene. A stunned silence paralyzed them... all but Tuvok, who stood serene and tall, relieved that he was no longer burdened by the secret that he alone had known all these years; relieved as he sensed the haunting grasp on his soul being released, as it once more flowed back into Chakotay.

The silence continued, as the remarkable story started unfolding before them.

Kathryn was drawn towards the screen. She brought the fingers of her hand to her lips, and reached up, transferring her kiss to his likeness in front of her. Even with the blurred transmission, Chakotay could sense the emotion in that touch.

"You kept your promise," he whispered, choking with surfacing emotions.

Her words enfolded him. "You helped me keep it. My strength by itself was faltering, but you... you reached out over tens of thousands of light years and pulled at the very core of my existence."

They were oblivious to the small group who were spellbound in their observations.

"Where... where are you? " he asked. "How long have you been searching? Did you come back? Turn around? How"

"Later, later... too many questions! We’re here, that’s all that’s important. We’ll talk. We should be arriving in about..." she turned to Seven, who quickly adjusted to the needs of duty and consulted her calculations.

"In about an hour, Captain," she responded.

For the first time since he had seen Kathryn, Chakotay looked beyond her and towards the voice he had just heard. Again, the image was less than perfect, but he responded in a horrified tone at seeing the tall Borg/human behind Kathryn.

"Kathryn... is that a... Borg with you?"

"A former drone... she was Borg... this is Seven of Nine. That, too, is a very long story, which you will learn also. There is so much that... that..."

"Shhh... when you get here, my love; when you get here."

He surveyed the rest of the crew behind her, calling out their names like a sacred litany. "Tom, B’Elanna, Harry, Tuvok... why? how?"

Tom answered first. "Hello, Commander. Yes, well, as to why and how... well, we might be in hotter water than any of the Maquis ever were..."

Chakotay quickly understood the intent of the comment.

"Then... this isn’t really a Starfleet mission?" he asked.

Harry jumped in. "Let’s just say it started out that way, but we turned a wrong corner."

Chakotay shook his head, a smile displaying his trademark dimples which were still as deep as ever. "Kathryn, this can’t be your idea; not stick-to-Starfleet rules Kathryn Janeway!"

She was still hovering in front of the view screen. "Actually it was Tuvok’s idea..."

Tuvok suddenly jerked to attention. "Captain, it was not my intention for this..."

B’Elanna, sensing a need to shift the current line of thought, interrupted. "Um... not to change the subject, but... but... uh... are you ... and Captain Janeway... uh... I mean.. she called you... you..."

She stammered and turned irately on Janeway. "Captain, why didn’t you say anything to us?"

Kathryn begrudgingly pulled her concentration away from the screen. "That’s another part of this long story. In due time, B’Elanna." And she returned back to her center of attention.

Chakotay moved nervously. "Well... um... I really wasn’t expecting company quite so soon. I’d better get myself a little better prepared."

Janeway now looked beyond him. In the background, she recognized the structure from years ago. "You’re still... there..."

"Mmm... made a few changes and improvements."

A muddled chattering could be heard in the background, also behind Chakotay. He turned and called sternly, "Max! Quiet"

Kathryn’s face brightened. "Max? He’s still around?"

"Hasn’t left me since you did. He seemed to sense that I would need companionship. He even comes into the house every now and then, just sort of looking around... wondering..." He sat back, his smile pushing away the worn weariness that had been his body when they first saw him. "An hour, hmm? Why will that hour seem longer than these five years?"

"An hour. We will be there. Oh, yes... we will be there..." she said.

"I’ve been waiting since that first day after you left. I’ve kept up the booster hypos of the viral antiserum, so as not to have a relapse. I wanted ... to be ready. Well, I have a lot to do..."

"Yes, you do," she said quietly. "Janeway out."

"For now," he whispered back, as the screen went blank.

With the close of the link, Tom, Harry and B’Elanna were clamoring all over Janeway, their questions coming at her faster than energy blasts from a phase rifle.

"Captain... the antiserum... worked?... husband?...how long?... when?... and you never told anyone?... no wonder you went into those... and Tuvok, you knew? why, you old.... Man, I sure hope no one calls in any of those old Voyager bets... "

Janeway put up her hands, begging for some quiet.

"All right. You deserve to know the entire story. And yes, Tuvok has known... most of it. He had to, in order for me to have his trust over those..." her voice began faltering, "...those empty years.

"When Voyager returned to New Earth for us, we were quite shocked. As more than two months had elapsed and we had heard nothing, we decided that you were a good distance further along in your trip back to the Alpha Quadrant. Following the plasma storm that I told you about that had destroyed my research equipment, I truly felt lost, and for the first time admitted that we might be remaining on the planet for a long time... although I did think that eventually Starfleet... or someone... [she winked here] would come back for us. But... the raw energy of that storm ripped away something that I had long hidden inside... something that Chakotay knew was there.... and I should have." She paused, and took a deep breath. "We have loved each other since that first year on Voyager. It just took being deserted on an alien planet with no one but ourselves before we could admit it."

She looked around. "Well? What would you have done?"

Seven started to answer the rhetorical question, but Harry quickly shushed her...

"Here we are... seemingly a Delta Quadrant version of the old story of Adam and Eve... and if Starfleet did come for us... it could have been decades later... and we wanted ... to make sure... that we would be... remembered."

The quartet was now thoroughly engrossed in her tale, as Tuvok quietly took over the helm, preparing for their last slipstream journey.

"Like the "original" Earth pair, we had no one there to bless our union other than ourselves..." a slight smile illuminated her face... "but, as a Starfleet captain, I decided that I could do the honors. So, it was in that sense, that we were..um... joined. When Voyager came back for us, we knew that we could not continue the journey as a married couple, for the good of the ship, so Chakotay chose to stay behind, with the long range hopes of our making it back one day. I devised with Tuvok the story that you as the crew would be told... that the antiserum had not worked in his body, and that he would have to remain. I’m afraid I tampered with Starfleet property in recording those erroneous results in the medical logs."

Tom sank back, the first one to say anything. "Whew! Guess I know now why you got all hot and bothered when B’Elanna and I started getting ‘friendly’. That explains a lot!"

"And the decision with the Borg," B’Elanna chimed in. "I’d worked with Chakotay too closely long before; I know he would have changed your mind about that decision, too!"

"Yeah," Harry interrupted. "But then... we wouldn’t have found Seven"... he smiled at her... "or gotten to know her and have her help us through so many problems... and having her help us with the slipstream technology, which is why we’re here right now anyway."

"Indeed, Mr. Kim... an astute observation of coincidence and fate," Tuvok commented, looking up from his work. "And now, I have located the final slipstream corridor for this journey. I would suggest that we all prepare for it."

The crew settled back into their assigned positions, Janeway sitting in the Captain’s chair, looking for the first time since they could remember... looking like a captain.

"Thank you, Tuvok. Please relay the coordinates to the helm."

"Mr. Paris has them already, Captain."

"Very well. Mr. Paris, lock on to the coordinates and prepare for slipstream shift, warp 7." she called out.

"Aye, aye, sir!" came his affirmative compliance. And the USS Albany outraced the stars through the slipstream’s distort of time and space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only moments had passed when the ship suddenly appeared at the edge of the plasma anomaly of the final slipstream entrance. They were just outside of the gravitational pull a dwarf yellow sun.

Seven looked up at the viewport. "Captain, we have arrived in the area of the quadrant that you indicated. We should be able to see the planet for which you are searching about... now!" she pointed to the screen, as a distant object appeared as a small orbiting planet, forming a shallow crescent in the shadow of its sun.

"New Earth... Chakotay!" the older woman whispered.

The five other members on the ship were watching a transformation occur with their former captain. The very thin woman took on a radiance that they had never seen before, her dark eyes glowing with an inner light.

Tuvok took the initiative to speak. "Captain, we should hail the Commander and let him know of our impending arrival."

"Yes, yes; of course," she said, suddenly pulling back to reality. "And we should prepare an away team to go down..."

Tuvok gently iterated. "Captain, might I suggest that just you go down at first... to greet the Commander? He... um... he hasn’t seen people in a long time, and perhaps it would unwise for him to be faced with... such a large group."

Seven said, "I hardly think that three or four people could be considered..."

Harry cut her off. "Um... Seven, Tuvok is right. We can set up an orbit around the planet, and be within contact if necessary. Chakotay and the Captain... need to meet alone at first."

Rebuffed, Seven continued, "Starfleet regulations state that any away team should be composed of at least..."

Tom was laughing now. "Since when has this trip been by Starfleet regs? Come on, Seven... think a bit!"

Janeway began laughing at the banter. "Well, this is fine, but she’s right. We really should have someone..."

The comm link became live. Chakotay had picked up their signal.

"Albany... USS Albany... come in!"

Harry touched the screen in front of him, and Chakotay’s image, now very clear, showed up on the view screen.. That was all it took for Janeway. She spoke his name, and then announced that she alone would be joining him momentarily.

His smile lit up the galaxy. "Welcome home, Kathryn."

She lowered her head, hoping that her blush wouldn’t be too noticeable. Regaining her composure, she said, "Give me five minutes. I would like to change.. and there’s something I have for you."

He laughed. "And I have a lot for you, too!" He paused. "But, Kathryn, please come down in your uniform."

She looked at him, a startled question coming over her face.

"What?"

"I’ll explain... later," he answered, his eyes showing more life than she could even remember. "Five minutes... one for every year --- no more!"

"No more," she whispered as the link closed.

"Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge. I’ll... I’ll be going planetside for a while."

"Yes, Captain," came his serious response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four minutes and twenty-five seconds later, Kathryn Janeway was in the transporter room. Tom and B’Elanna were waiting for her, their smiles as radiant and happy as hers.

"Ready?" Tom asked.

"I’m... nervous," Janeway stuttered.

"Just be yourself; he won’t bite!" B’Elanna retorted.

"Hmmm... you do," Tom chimed in. "And that isn’t such a bad thing..." he continued with a grin, setting the transporter into action.

B’Elanna whacked him.

And as she had five years earlier, Janeway twinkled into the miasma of space between a Starfleet vessel and New Earth. But this time, her expression was filled with the life and hope and she had left behind on that formidable day so long ago. 

The sun was low in the sky as she appeared in the glen in front of Chakotay’s --- no, their --- home. The building was a sturdy one, its exterior constructed of weathered logs. A small garden remained in the area where she had made her feeble attempts at becoming an agricultural technician. The plants were copious with ripening products: bright flowers hung their heavy heads, welcoming the hungry flights of birds and insects. Vines of verdant squash and globular gourds twined and twisted around the slats of a trellised fence, playing hide and seek among the broad leaves of the plants. And there, to one side, stood a half a dozen tall plants, their sturdy stems gravid with bright red fruits and supported by stakes... her Talaxian tomatoes!

But the one object in this pastoral scene that commanded her attention stood tall and serene only a meter in front of her --- Chakotay.

He was darker than she had remembered him, a product of his rustic life. His body was much leaner, hard and compact from his physical activity. His thinness accentuated his angled chin, which was a pivot point for his face. High cheekbones formed shadowed shelves for his deep eyes... eyes that seemed wearied but exuberant at the same time; eyes harboring anxiety and desire. The thick shanks of his raven hair, now highlighted with the coming snows of age, were pulled severely back, their meter long lengths held by a carved bone ring. His clothes hung on his lanky frame, garments that brought back memories of another life: the soft brown trousers that he was always partial to, and the homespun ivory shirt with its dart-like sienna design which had always been her favorite. The folds of excess loose fabric were held in place with his brown belt, its surplus length dangling in the soft breeze.

The scene was frozen in time and space, neither of them wanting to move for fear of the other disappearing. As if in duet, they each took a deep breath, and emitted apprehensive laughs, a release from the emotional prison that had entombed them for the past five years. A slow dance began, as each one took a tentative step towards the other, their arms progressively reaching out for first contact.

He seemed taller; she, shorter, as their bodies merged into their continuum. Her fingers, with a delicate deliberateness, ran down the length of his face, finally encircling his lips. His hands found a wider surface, as they reached around her, pulling her towards him. His fingers extended a trail down her back, finally forming loving cups around the rounded flesh of her lower body, drawing her warmth towards his.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he murmured, raining soft kisses over her upturned face, wanting to assure himself that she was a solid being. "You have been only a dream for so long."

"My dreams have been more like nightmares; but it has been your face that has been before me in my waking hours that kept me sane," she responded.

Enough of words, they called out silently, their mouths searching for a long absent union. Earlier concerns about how they would feel about their reunion quickly melted, as they opened to each other, devouring the fears and delusions of five years. Forgiveness of decisions made and gratitude for promises kept all commingled in the joining of their spirits. Hands explored forgotten territories, searching for lost oases of delight. Past years became future hours. In a movement that repeated a defining moment years earlier, he loosened her hair, and lovingly pulled it over her shoulders, unleashing its welcome wildness.

He reluctantly pulled away, admiring the radiant woman in front of him. "Come; I have a surprise for you," he grinned at her, taking her hand and leading her towards the house.

"And I for you," she answered, her voice youthful in anticipation of their shared gifts as she reached under her tunic and pulled out a small package. "But... yours first.," she laughed. "You... and your surprises!"

They half walked, half danced through the door of the house. Kathryn drew back when she saw what all he had done. In addition to the outer log finish, he had completed interior walls of the house and painted murals on all of them... scenes from Trebus; Earth; Bajor; and loving reminiscent images of Kathryn on New Earth --- in the garden; over her computer; asleep in their bed, her body and hair like liquid flowing over its surface. Wooden furniture had taken the place of most of the metallic modular pieces that they had brought from Voyager.

"I used most of the metal in constructing the communication array and a small tracking station," he answered before she asked. "Besides... you know that I’ve always liked working with wood; it’s kept me out of mischief," he grinned at her.

He turned and quickly walked over to one of the separate rooms. "There’s something else I made... although it’s only been in the past hour. But it’s something I’ve been hoping to have the opportunity to make for five long years."

She looked at him curiously, as he darted into the room. He reentered just as quickly, holding a piece of folded material in his hands.

"I apologize; it’s replicated. But it’s for you."

She placed her small package on the table and reached over, letting the fabric open as she picked it up. The lines of a simple blue dress unfolded, just like one that she had worn years ago, here... in their world.

"I wanted you to have a ‘welcome home’ dress," he said softly.

"And that’s why you wanted me to wear my uniform down?" she asked, still somewhat confused.

"No," he answered, slowly coming over to her. "That request is because I have always wanted to take you out of your uniform. Do you know that I never have? I’ve wanted to do it, just to prove to us that we could remove Starfleet from our private lives." He reached for the closure seam on her tunic and started to unfasten the outer garment.

She grinned at him. "Do you think Starfleet would approve of our actions?"

"Not in the slightest," he smiled in answer, while removing the bulky tunic and turning his attention to her jersey. He tenderly drew the garment over her head, and laid it next to the tunic. "One less layer of regulation."

Her hands had found his belt, and they were busily separating the two ends. The worn leather fell to the wooden floor, blending with its dark surface. Her hands were getting lost in the folds of his shirt, its well-worn softness caressing her hands as she attempted to lift it form his torso.

Likewise, he was tugging at her tank top, extracting its long tail out from out of the confines of the waistband. He met with a delayed success, and pulled it over her head now. In drawing the shirt up, his hands brushed her aroused breasts, and she let out a small gasp.

"Oh!" she emitted, surprised by the accidental erotic touch that suddenly sent a shock wave through both of them.

Chakotay’s romantic notion of de-Starfleeting Kathryn Janeway was quickly thrown to the winds as their remaining clothing was scattered to the four corners of the room. A trail of the last remnants of their attire led to the room that had been their bedroom.

An overwhelming desire for denied consummation of their passion forged their anticipated union ahead with the momentum of an avalanche. Each had wanted a slow renewal, allowing them to savor the small delights that they had remembered from over the years. But that was not meant to be, for that primal force which is outweighed only by the essential necessity for water and food had overtaken all sensibilities. They fell onto the bed in tandem, their bodies demanding satisfaction for unfulfilled needs, needs that only they could supply for each other.

Tender preliminary gestures were forgotten, as hungry flesh opened to penetrating firmness, accepting an explosion of hurried hunger. Cries and sighs and gasps sang throughout the house, bringing to it a long-forgotten song. Arms and legs tangled together medusa-like, unwilling to unravel the puzzle. He fought for air, as her breathing came in short, staccato gasps. Perspiration glistened on their foreheads and cheeks and arms and bodies.

He finally managed to speak. "I’m sorry; that wasn’t... the way... I had planned this..."

She smiled back. "Nor I. But... it’s never like it is in the story books..."

He laughed, looking down at her, brushing back the strands of hair tenaciously sticking to her cheeks. "And just what sort of books do you read?"

"Who wants to read them?" she asked. "I want to write them with our actions."

She chuckled, thinking back to her original idea of one or two from the crew coming down with her.

"And what’s so funny, beautiful lady?" he asked.

"At first, I thought that we’d better play this mission by the books, and have an official away team come down to meet you."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Let’s see... who could have best handled this little exhibit? You probably could answer that better than I..."

She gave it some thought. "Well, Tuvok would have died of embarrassment; Harry would be mortified... we’re too much like parents to him. Seven would study it for future reference, and Tom and B’Elanna would probably join in..."

Chakotay raised up at this statement. "What?"

Janeway suddenly realized that he hadn’t known; how could he?

"Oh, yes; Tom and B’Elanna are married," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Now there’s something I never saw coming," he said, in a mild state of shock.

She gave her head a thoughtful shake. "Well, our news was likewise a surprise to them --- I think. Except Tuvok, of course. But then... you knew that I was going to confide in him."

The throes of their initial passion were ebbing, allowing Kathryn for the first time to look around at her current surroundings. Chakotay had rebuilt the bed... their bed. Its heavy frame was constructed of the same dark wood that framed the exterior of the house now. The headboard that he had made a lifetime ago was gone, replaced with another example of his artistic craftsmanship. It was a display of inlaid shapes of wood and shells, creating a mosaic poem of texture and color. She reached out, and ran her hand over the surface.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It’s beautiful!" was her simple reply.

"There is a story with every piece."

"And I want to hear every one of them," she responded, reaching up and pulling him down to her.

The resulting kiss was slow and deliberate and considered. This time, it was a luxuriant walk through a warm glen, with time for exploration and tasting and feeling and sensing. The earlier ones had been out of urgency and desire; now it was time for one of love and consecration, of thanksgiving and gratitude... for the sacrifices they had made of each for the other.

A "click" came from within the wall, and a soft light lit the room. Its gentle illumination signaled a message to Chakotay. He reluctantly pulled away from Kathryn and glanced at the light.

"The evening lamps have come on," he said.

"Yes?" she asked groggily.

"It’s getting dark outside. We should be getting the rest of the crew down."

"Mm. Perhaps. Or... I could ask if they would mind remaining aboard until tomorrow."

He grinned at her suggestive proposal. "And they wouldn’t... um... be suspicious?"

Her soft laughter wrapped itself around him. "I’m the captain," she answered.

"Yes, you are," he agreed. "But... we really should contact them."

"Perhaps you’re right." She looked at their current condition. "But maybe we should do something about this, or else make sure they don’t turn on a viewscreen."

"I could add a little static interference," he added.

"I like that!" she responded with mischievous glee.

With a great deal of effort, they moved from their connubial nest, and searching for Janeway’s communicator.

The rapid response on the Albany’s end indicated that her five inhabitants were anxiously awaiting news from the planet.

"Captain!" Harry’s voice responded. "Is everything all right?"

"It couldn’t be better," she smiled into the comm. "But... Harry... um... we would like to have a little more time..."

A chorus of low chortles could be heard from the orbiting ship.

"Understood, Captain," Harry half-laughed. "Um... is there anything you and the commander need?"

"Time, Harry; just time. Catch you in the morning. Janeway out."

She turned into his waiting arms.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Not really," she responded, falling into his embrace.

A reverent silence filled the room, as they reacquainted themselves with familiar touches and tickles, awakening long dormant physical sensations.

"Chakotay... do you still have my bathtub?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

His fervent smile told her that he had been waiting for this question. "Come; see."

He led her through a door at the back of the house, to an alcove that she had not remembered.

The room was a half-circle, with it long flat wall attaching it to the house. The graceful curving exterior wall was constructed of an intricate layout of small jalousied slats. They were entirely opened, allowing a flow of the warm evening air and the soft illumination of the sparkling starlight to fill the room. He had trained thick lush vines to form a frame around its perimeters; heavy petaled white flowers on the vines showered their fragile fragrance throughout the room. In the center of the room, on a small platform, sat the tub that he had lovingly built for her years before.

Kathryn stood silently in awe of the unworldly scene that the room provided.

"It’s been my sanctuary for remembering you," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, Chakotay!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "It’s... it’s magnificent!"

"Would you like to... um... try it out?" he asked.

"Only if you join me," she answered, an inviting teasing smile in her eyes.

"I wouldn’t have it any other way. The water should still be warm in solar storage tank. I’ll get things ready."

He walked over to the tub and opened its water spigot, testing its temperature. Satisfied with his findings, he pulled a small vial from under the platform and added its contents to the streaming water; waves of a delicate fragrance wafted into the evening air.

She followed him over to the massive wooden tub, allowing the swirls of water dance around her hand as they flowed into the tub. Chakotay walked behind her, his naked body warm and stimulating on hers. Flutters of fleshy movement from him, an indicator of his once more aroused passion, throbbed against the rounded mounds of her buttocks. Perhaps the bath should wait...

Warm vapor rose as the water filled the tub. The scent from the water mingled with that of the blooms framing the room, creating a sensual invitation. As the whirling waters neared the top, they eased their bodies into the soothing pool. Small waves washed against their movements, lapping and licking their skin.

Kathryn leaned forward towards her tubmate, his face and hair now wet from the eddying waters. "I love you so much," she whispered, adding the moistness of her kiss to the surrounding water.

"Not a moment has gone by that I haven’t whispered your name," he responded.

"I know; I heard every one," she said.

Small waves became midsized ones as they washed themselves free of all the lost times. Midsized waves became breakers, as they filled themselves again with lost love. The floor surrounding them soon was a pond, as their increasing desperate desires spread the water out of its confines. Echoes of their contentment escaped from the room, into the sleeping world outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pastel sunlight trickled through the window, bathing the forms of the bed with its peaceful rays. Soft murmurs indicated that they were not asleep... or rather, that they had not slept much. Low laughs from the lovers greeted the new day, full of hope and happiness with their renewed life together.

"I really should contact the Albany," she sighed.

"Do you really think they expect it?" he grinned, brushing the hair back from her face.

"We’ve kept them waiting long enough," she answered, her fingers teasingly running down his chest... and lower.

"And we’ve kept each other waiting long enough," was his groaning retort.

"I think I’ll invite them down," Kathryn announced emphatically.

Chakotay’s response was one of surprise. "Is that wise?"

Ignoring the true intent of his statement, Kathryn stated seriously, "Oh, they’ve had the vaccine for the virus. We made sure that everyone was safe early in the voyage here."

"No," he said laughingly, while tickling the soft skin of her underarms, "I mean... is it safe to be around us?"

"Ohhhh, don't do that!" she moaned, reacting to the sensuality of his touch. "Really... we should try to get back to reality..."

"I suppose you’re right," he sighed, pulling his hands back to himself. "But just for a while..." he continued with a wicked grin.

"You’re insatiable," she said, kissing him but throwing back the covers at the same time. "but so am I."

As she slipped into the small bathroom area, he rolled over into the area she had just vacated, reveling in her residual warmth and scent, thanking his spirits for guiding her safely back. None of his dreams or visions had prepared him for the happiness that they had shared in the last twelve hours; no person in the universe could even begin to reach the level of joy they felt... no one!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He traded kisses and places with her as she came out. As he now joined her in the great room of the house, she greeted him dressed in the simple blue dress that he had given her. Her hair, still damp from her shower, smelled of the flowers from the vines around the bathing area. All she needed was a shimmering halo, and he would know that he was in heaven.

"I’m glad that you liked my gift," he smiled, walking around her and examining the dress on her. "Although, I’m afraid it’s a little big."

She laughed, pulling him into her embrace. "Chakotay, better to err on the side of having clothing too big than too little for a woman! Besides... I’ve had a lot more on my mind lately than eating; I guess I’ve lost some weight..."

His eyes caught a glimpse of the small package that she had brought down from the ship the previous day.

"You never showed me what you brought," he stated, an expression of curiosity coming across his dusky face.

Kathryn jumped back, seeming a bit embarrassed at her forgetfulness.

"Oh, my. I did forget, didn’t I?" She turned and retrieved the box from the place where she had put it the day before., and sheepishly returned to him.

"I hope you won’t mind, but I have brought something for us to share. It’s an old tradition from Earth, and isn’t done much anymore, but I’m hoping you will be in agreement to participate in its meaning."

He looked at her with a inquisitive eyes. "What? What is it?" he asked, reaching for the cloth-covered box she held out to him.

He raised the hinged lid to reveal a pillowed interior, with a narrow slit bisecting it. Inserted into the crevice were two rings of gold, each one embossed with an encircling repetition of the design of his tattoo. He looked at them, and then at her.

She softly explained their meaning. "I know that the tradition of exchanging rings when two people marry isn’t done much anymore, but I would like for us to have these as reminders... if we are ever parted again... of our eternal love for each other."

"Kathryn...." he whispered, shaking his head in awe of this woman who for so many years he had considered lost. "You are remarkable! I have... thought about this also. Our minds and spirits have been linked over these years..." He fingered the design, noting its exact replication. "You have honored me... us... in doing this."

He removed the smaller ring from its place, and took her hand, gently sliding the metallic circle down the ring finger of her left hand. "From this day forward, we are bound to each other... for eternity and after."

She took the box from him, and withdrew the other ring, placing the now-empty box on the table. She took his hand and smiled as it glided down his thick finger. "You are the love of my life and my reason for living. I have not... nor ever will... stop loving you," she said.

He leaned down and tenderly kissed her. "Now and forever, Kathryn Janeway. You will never be free of me or my spirit."

A buzz from her comm badge interrupted them. They looked at each other in shock, just as they had from that very same location over five years ago... the day when a comm badge message would change their lives for all time.

Kathryn hesitatingly answered its summons. "Janeway here."

"Good morning, Captain," said Tuvok’s voice. "I trust that you... slept well?"

She grinned mischievously at Chakotay, who was about ready to burst with laughter.

"We are well, Tuvok. In fact, we were just about ready to invite you down," she responded.

"I believe I speak for the rest of us when I say that we would be... honored," he answered.

"We’ll be waiting for you," Janeway said. "Why don’t you use the same coordinates for my transport yesterday?"

"Understood," came the reply.

Janeway and Chakotay quickly walked outside into the open area in the front of the house just as five people materialized in front of them.

"Hello there," she smiled at them. "Welcome to our home on New Earth. And this time, Mr. Tuvok, the ending of the story will be different!"

"Indeed," responded the Vulcan, his reply lost in the cacophony of joyous greetings of the reuniting Voyager friends.

The morning light from the dwarf yellow sun smiled down its blessings on new unions and old. The ending of this story was just the beginning of another one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
